Guiltier Pleasure
by periodically chlorinated
Summary: Abby's interest in Holly Snow is not what it seems, leading to a revealing evening for a certain Very Special Agent. Ultimately Gabby, AU. Tag to 7x19 'Guilty Pleasure'.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The usual disclaimer...I own nothing, all credit to the great and mighty Bellisario/CBS peoples.

This AU story takes place during season 7's 'Guilty Pleasure', will be Gabby, and should be about 7 chapters long. The first few chapters will stick relatively close to canon, but the deviation gets relatively extreme in the later chapters. The goal is to post a new chapter daily...we shall see how RL tries to prevent me from doing this.

I always thought Abby's intense interest in Holly Snow needed some explanation, as did several moments throughout the episode, thus this story.

Oh, and the last two chapters will be M. Just saying...

* * *

Chapter 1

Abby stands at her desk, her fingers idle on her keyboard, preoccupied with who her research has uncovered. _That_ woman again, the one who had Gibbs tied up in knots for a couple of days (not literally, she hopes) during the case of the witness from Paris on the plane with Tony and Ziva. He would never admit to it, but Abby was adept at reading the man (a skill she was proud to say she had honed over time) and something about that woman had intrigued him. Of course, Gibbs did break his arm at the end of the case, but before then, there was a chance that something had happened. Not that she was jealous. Or that any of it was her business. And she would certainly never admit that she had dropped by his place to check on him and noticed that lawyer's car parked on the street, prompting a hasty retreat. That Gibbs would have not just one other woman interested in him, but two…

"Abby?"

Gibbs' voice slightly startles her, so to cover for her wandering mind she tries to be all business. "No time for small talk Gibbs, there's way too much to tell." She walks around him quickly, keeping her head turned away while she tries to compose her face.

"I only said 'Abby', Abby," Gibbs declares defensively, turning to follow her.

"Well, now you've said it thrice," Abby attempts to remain business-like, reaching her computer and tapping on her keyboard. "I have been scrubbing through the motel security footage. It's grainy and it's from far away, but you can see a female-ish hunk of pixels coming," she pauses to advance the video with a few keystrokes and mouse movement, "and then going an hour later."

Abby turns toward Gibbs and speculates, "Plenty of time for a little hanky-panky with our dead journalist before she killed him, oh if she did it." Gibbs starts to smile and she realizes her faux pas, so she tries to clarify with a hand motion, "And by did it I mean if she killed him, not 'did it' like if she 'did it'."

"You got her name?"

"OK." She turns back to the monitor. "Motel footage, not so hot, but the footage that McGee got from the bar…muy caliente. Using Moss' calendar," Abby pulls up the new data as Gibbs approaches the large screen on the wall, "I was able to match a previous date and time of a meeting between the lieutenant and our mystery woman, thus," she zooms in on a frame of image and declares, "Wallah."

"Her face on file?" Gibbs turns back to look at Abby.

She brings the police record and photo up, prompting Gibbs to turn back. "Charlotte Cook. She was busted for prostitution two years ago. If you give me a DNA sample, I could match that to the hairs that we found in the hotel and we could put her at the crime scene."

"She's been arrested before and her DNA is not on file?" Gibbs pivots around again.

"Yeah, she must have had a really good lawyer. She was bailed out in a heartbeat and all the charges were dropped." Abby comes around the table to stand near Gibbs. "Gibbs, guess who she used to work for?"

This is the moment she has been anticipating since uncovering this connection. She presses her remote and a familiar photo appears on the monitor. "Holly Snow, the former D.C. madam," Abby identifies her unnecessarily, trying to cover for her curiosity, but guessing she is probably doing an awful job of it.

Nervous of his reaction to Holly Snow's renewed presence on a case, she plows on with, "You should talk to her, Gibbs. Look," Abby clicks the remote again and a new document pops onto the screen, "She's giving seminars on sexual harassment to government employees as part of her plea deal."

"Right, community service." Gibbs' voice is even, betraying nothing of his reaction.

Fishing for more of a response, Abby tries, "I guess she…she would know a lot about sex, huh?"

"And harassment." Gibbs glances over at Abby, and his eyes say that he is attune to her strange interest.

Trying to think quickly, Abby continues to take the conversation into more personal territory. "I don't think I could be an escort. I mean, I am really friendly and, and I am a good listener, and I like men, but ooh," she finishes, hoping Gibbs will provide some sort of feedback.

Instead, he commands, "Abby."

"Yes?" she responds, hopeful.

"Find Charlotte Cook."

Before she can ask another question, he starts toward the door.

"Right." Abby turns her head to the side as she continues to look at the photo of Holly Snow. She waits until the ding of the elevator signals Gibbs' complete departure before she sighs and adds, "Wonder if you would feel differently if I started acting like that 'legal prostitute', MAllison. No doubt she knows a thing or two about pleasing men, and she certainly has no qualms over harassing people, especially you."

With slumped shoulders, Abby returns to her computer console and begins the search for Charlotte Cook. If there is one thing she _is_ good at, it's providing the forensic evidence he needs in a timely manner. Too bad he seems to have forgotten lately his end of the deal – bringing her Caf Pow! and rewarding her hard work with a kiss to the cheek. Obviously she just needs to work harder to draw his attention back to her.

Or, a sudden thought occurs to Abby; maybe this situation requires a change in tactics…

* * *

A/N: Would love some feedback, but if you prefer to be a fanfic lurker, that is cool, too.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This fic is currently un-betaed, so any/all mistakes are mine...

* * *

Chapter 2

Gibbs leans on the railing outside MTAC, keeping an eye on Holly, Ziva, and McGee. Their plan is certainly not foolproof, as Leon was quick to point out. Reinstating Holly as 'D.C.'s madam' does not necessarily guarantee that Charlotte will call. And he is not exactly thrilled with the terms that Holly has set forth regarding him. The Marine (not to mention the man) in him is getting a little tired of being used by some of the women in his life to further their own agendas. Had enough of that from his ex-wives…

Stealthy movement from near the elevator draws his attention, and he watches Abby sneak toward Ziva's desk to obviously spy on Holly. The brunette glances up at her with disinterest and then goes back to perusing her magazine.

He uses his sharp ears and a skill he picked up early in his NIS/NCIS career to follow what happens next; lip-reading. It's not something he has ever revealed being practiced at to anyone, though he thinks that Ducky and Abby suspect.

"Am I interrupting?" Abby asks Ziva.

"No, we have hit a lull," admits Ziva, sighing.

McGee pipes up, "Ms. Snow's been back in business for one hour and we have received sixteen calls and none of them are Charlotte."

"You know, you would think that United States Senators would use blocked numbers. Excuse me; I have to drop these off to autopsy." Ziva shuffles a stack of case file folders and walks away with them.

Abby approaches Holly timidly, McGee watching, obviously intrigued by what the forensic scientist will say; Gibbs, too. She steps forward, stopping jarringly and declares "Hi."

Holly quickly looks her up and down and returns her greeting, "Hi."

"I'm Abby Scuito. I've been, um, following your," Abby searches for the right descriptor and ends uncertainly with, "career."

"Am I flattered or offended?" inquires Holly.

"Um, both?" Abby holds her hands uncertainly in front of her.

After a momentary pause, both women blurt out gesturing simultaneously, "Love your shoes." Gibbs shakes his head, amused; women and fashion.

Holly chuckles, a throaty sound, and then follows up with "Um, thanks. Manuel Ares, Milan. Makes them by hand."

"Um, Gothic Soul, made by some big, heavy, loud piece of machinery in like Malaysia."

There is a slightly unnatural lull in the conversation, which Holly fills with, "Is something on your mind, Abby?"

Holly's expression registers understanding as Abby continues to fidget, "Oh, you have a problem with my line of work. Do you have, uh, legal, moral, or women's issues with it?"

"All of the above," Abby admits, gesturing with both hands.

Something in Abby's body language says otherwise and that catches Gibbs' attention.

"Yeah, me, too. And now I'm paying for it," Holly pulls up her pant leg to show the ankle monitor.

The phone rings, interrupting the two women and Gibbs watches as Holly makes arrangements with Charlotte. He notices Abby looking at Holly's ankle monitor consideringly and listening in on the conversation for the arrangements, as if she is trying to understand. This unnerves Gibbs, the thought of his Abbs being so interested in the escort business, and his hands tighten on the railing.

Not that he believes Abby to be completely innocent or naïve, but the idea of Holly putting certain ideas into her head leaves him feeling very protective.

The moment the telephone is back in its cradle, Abby thrusts her hand forward. "It was nice to meet you, Ms. Snow. I think," she slightly shakes her head, her pigtails swinging, as if she is trying to align her thought processes before walking away. Holly watches her go with a bemused expression.

Gibbs is not so pleased. He turns away from McGee asking Holly about the phone call and instead follows Abby's retreat from the squadroom. There is a crease in her forehead, and Gibbs knows that look. It is her calculating, conspiratorial look. The one that sends most everyone else scurrying away from her lab, knowing that she could off them without any forensic evidence if they interrupt her.

He used to be the one exception to that rule, but he knows lately he has been distant from everyone, especially from Abby. For her, that is tantamount to disownment because he has always understood that she needs verification that all is well in their friendship. Not just needs, but _needs_. But until he knows Allison M. Hart's agenda and how it links to Colonel Bell, he must keep his enemies closer. This new threat is not as transparent as others in his past and is much more personally directed. So, to keep his surrogate family safe from danger he has been slightly more distant as of late by design.

When it is all over, he will mend fences with everyone, including Abby. He knows that she has an extraordinary capacity to forgive. After his time in Mexico, most everyone on his team held latent feelings of neglect, especially Ducky. But Abby had been simply overjoyed to have him back, no questions asked. It is one of the aspects of their friendship that has been so important to him; complete acceptance.

Which was why her earlier questions in her lab about sex and being an escort have left him wondering. Why would she even consider if she would be good as an escort? Abby is too special and unique to be wasted on men who only wanted her body, ignoring her incredible mind. But this is probably just one of her slightly obsessive phases, likely to pass once the case is through. She will be onto something or someone new with that unquenchable curiosity by this time next week, so he tells himself.

And still, the bizarre interaction that just occurred between Abby and Holly pulls at his gut; something is afoot and he is completely out of the loop. And he does not like that one bit.

So he stalks over to the elevator and jabs the down button. Time for a consult.

* * *

Ducky is at his desk and he swivels around when the doors open. "Jethro? What are you doing down here? I just conveyed to Ziva that I have no new information since you last stopped by. And I have not sent anything new to our Abby, either."

Gibbs shrugs as he moves to stand between the ME and the nearest autopsy table. "Didn't ask what'cha had for me, Duck."

Ducky cocks his head to the side. "Then I suppose you are here for another reason." He rises from his chair and approaches his long-time friend. "Perhaps you wish to utilize my psychological skills to better understand how our lieutenant became so financially involved with his writing subject?"

"Nope, not that either." Gibbs places his hands on the table and leans against it.

The ME stops as he reaches the opposite side of the autopsy table. "Then you are interested in the latest team dynamic, particularly the introduction of Detective McCadden."

Gibbs offers a half-smile. "You're reaching, Doctor."

"Ah, yes." Ducky nods, knowingly. "Forgive me, Jethro. I should know better than to think that you have any qualms regarding your team." When Gibbs remains silent, he continues with, "Then why are you here? I admit to being slightly puzzled."

Gibbs chooses to approach the issue from a non-obvious angle. "Your impression of Holly Snow?"

Ducky seems to suddenly understand what this conversation is all about. "Ah, well the woman's reputation certainly would seem to speak for itself. Suffice it to say, although I have not personally spoken with her, I believe that she will do whatever is necessary to achieve her means. One does not excel in her sort of business without such an attitude."

Before Gibbs can ask another question, the ME continues on. "You know, this reminds me of someone I met when I was in Uni at Edinburgh. You see, I had become a bit infatuated with a classmate who was rather, shall we say, voluptuous, only to discover prior to our first date that she was involved in–"

"Duck," interrupts Gibbs, "I'm not interested in dating Holly Snow."

"Oh?" Ducky prompts, "Then why ask me about her?"

Gibbs shifts on his feet and begins pacing in front of the metal table. "It's Abby."

Genuine surprise registers on the older man's face. "And what about our Abigail has you so perplexed?"

Gibbs swallows and stops pacing, turning to face his friend. "She's very interested in Holly and her profession, _very_."

Ducky walks around the edge of the table to stand next to Gibbs. "And this bothers you."

"Yeah," responds Gibbs, his intonation conveying his irritation.

Ducky scrutinizes him for a moment before responding. "Shall we analyze why?"

Gibbs frowns, but does not reply. He is not entirely certain that he wants to uncover any deeper rationale behind his reaction. After all, he came down to find out why Abby is interested in Holly, not why his gut is twisting at the idea.

With thoughtful words, Ducky slowly adds, "Abigail is certainly an important part of your life, and you fear that Ms. Snow will provide a poor example. We both know that you are particularly fond of Abigail and you fear that she will conduct herself in a manner that will necessitate your protection."

"Yeah, that must be it," Gibbs hastily responds, then tries to divert the conversation. "Any idea why she's so fixated on Holly?"

Ducky pulls his right hand from his lab coat pocket and places it on Gibbs' shoulder. "Jethro, our Abigail is a beautiful creature of her own sort. I daren't try to understand what makes that analytical mind function, lest it no longer remains a marvelous mystery. However, I can say that she almost always acts in the best interest of those she loves, to keep them safe and happy."

"And Holly helps her with that, how?" asks Gibbs, trying to understand.

With a chuckle, Ducky claps him on the shoulder. "We may never know. As the German theoretical physicist, Albert Einstein said, 'The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.' It certainly keeps things fresh, don't you think?"

Gibbs' phone rings and it's McGee, telling him that the accommodations for their trap for Charlotte have been solidified. With a nod at Ducky, he leaves autopsy and enters the elevator. His gut is far from settled on this matter, and he decides to keep a more watchful eye on Abby over the next few days. That is, if he can keep Holly at bay through the completion of this case and avoid any 'accidental' interactions with Allison M. Hart. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. When did women get so complicated?

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all who have read/reviewed/favorited/alerted this story! Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Abby bounds into the squad room, just in time to hear Tony say, "Sutherland, nice."

"What's nice?" she asks, skipping through the center of the room to stand in front of Tony's desk. For a moment she thinks she hears McGee say something, but Tony speaks again, diverting her attention.

"We were just identifying the best movie featuring a call girl. McAwesome just identified that as 'Klute'."

Her mind hiccups for a moment and she realizes that she must have misheard Tony. "Ha, I thought you said 'Clue' for a second, which is actually somewhat relevant, because Miss Scarlett ends up being a madam in D.C., running an illegal business just like Holly Snow. Actually the parallels are sort of weird to think about. I mean, Holly is a bit more mysterious, and Miss Scarlett was more scantily-clad, but they both act sort of entitled. And the maid in the movie is kind of like Charlotte, except Holly didn't hire Charlotte to off one of us. At least, I don't think so. And that was only one of the three different endings. Did you know that the original theatrical release had different endings in different theaters? By the way who are you?"

The unfamiliar guy, wearing what appears to be the same suit as Tony, takes a moment to recover from her verbal barrage, gives her a once-over, and offers his hand. "Homicide Detective Phil McCadden, aka 'McAwesome'. And who might this fellow film buff be?"

She takes his hand and instead of shaking it, curtseys. "Forensic Scientist Abby Sciuto, aka Energizer Abby."

McCadden's eyebrows rise as he looks over to Tony, as if verifying that she is serious. Tony offers one of his cheesy grins, and the detective turns back to reappraise her. "How exactly did you get _that_ nickname?"

McGee butts in, sounding perturbed. "Not that it's any of your business, but Abby is quite dedicated to her work. She keeps searching until we catch our killer, unlike some of us who are more concerned with their stomachs."

She smiles at her former inamorato. "Aww, thank you for the compliment, Timmy!"

Tony pulls a face. "Hey, why don't you get back to work, McWannabe?"

Abby picks up on the lingering maliciousness, but figures that it will be better to talk to McGee one on one sometime soon instead of bringing it up right now. Clearly the addition of McCadden has thrown off their team zen.

Noticing the absence of the reason she came up to the squadroom, Abby asks Tony, "Where's Gibbs?"

"He just left. Said he was taking Holly Snow home."

McCadden adds, his tone suggestive, "And she asked if he was tucking her in. Bet he does, would be an idiot not to take advantage of Holly Snow."

Abby winces internally.

Fortunately, the plunking of several greasy bags onto Tony's desk ends the speculation on Gibbs' evening activities.

"I still do not understand why it is called a 'hotdog'," confesses Ziva, indignantly. "It is not made of dog meat, it is made of beef. And if there is no pig meat in 'hamburgers', then why are they not called 'beefburgers'? Is it an American convention to avoid identifying the contents of beef products?"

Abby zones in and out of the ensuring nomenclature debate, her mind dwelling on Gibbs. She only responds when Ziva offers her an extra bag.

"No thanks, I'm not really hungry. I need to get back to Major Mass Spec, anyway; he owes me some results. And I need to finish some work on the murder weapon, too."

McCadden offers his hand again and this time she shakes it. "Pleasure to have met you, Energizer Abby. Hope our paths can cross again in the future, maybe next time at a bar?"

She scoffs half-heartedly, "Yeah, like you would last ten minutes at my type of bar."

The detective looks confused, but Tony just grins conspiratorially and says, "Eh, well, gotta get going on finding out about this Nicholas Everett guy. See you in the morning, Abbs?"

"Yeah, 'night everyone," she says with an unenthusiastic smile, and returns to her lab.

* * *

It takes most of the night and several Caf-Pow!s from her refrigerator stash before she has caught up on her evidence backlog. The reports take another few hours, and dawn is just beginning to break as she closes the last file and sends the last email. With a satisfied sigh, Abby pulls out her cot and sits down on it cross-legged, hugging Bert close to her body. Now that she does not have her work to act as a distraction, her insecurities resurface.

The same questions she asks herself frequently recycle through her mind. How could she be so stupid? With women like MAllison and Holly Snow practically throwing themselves at him, what hope does she stand in the race to grab Gibbs' attention? Why is she torturing herself by loving someone who sees her as nothing more than a good friend? Why can't she just be satisfied with what he has offered? What would be the harm in asking for more? And how can he be so interested in that lawyer and not her?

Truly, the worst part lately has been the realization that she and MAllison are similar in appearance. The only logical conclusion is that it is her personality that off-puts Gibbs. But he has always laughed with and at her, protected her, accepted her eccentricities, and of course taken her out for pre-birthday dinners. He would not do that with just anyone. What does MAllison have that she doesn't? What has MAllison done for him that she hasn't?

Abby's only been there for him, warts and all, since the very beginning.

"Yeah, that's right," she proclaims, aloud to Bert, "I have been there. Whenever he needed me, always loyal, always willing to do whatever he asked of me. Hell, I've probably done more for Gibbs than all of his ex-wives combined."

And perhaps it is time that she reminds him of that…

With that thought, she leaps up from the cot and races around to her computer, gently placing the stuffed hippo down beside the keyboard. A few moments later and she has Holly Snow's personal number from the computer records.

It rings four times before a groggy, female voice answers. "Hello?"

Abby looks at the clock at the bottom of her computer screen and realizes it is just past 0600. "Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Snow. I wasn't paying attention to the time and, oooh, I really did not mean to wake you up so early."

Holly's voice sounds more confused than upset. "Who is this?"

With a slight grimace, Abby admits, "Um, this is Abby Sciuto. We met yesterday in the squadroom."

There is a sound like shuffling cloth on the other side of the phone. "And what exactly can I do for you, Abby?" asks Holly, sounding more awake and slightly apprehensive.

Abby takes a deep breath and blurts out, "Well, I, uh, sort of have a really big favor to ask."

This must catch Holly's attention because she no longer sounds apprehensive, but excited instead, as if she has been anticipating this conversation. "Oh? Then I think I might just be able to help you out, Abby."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading/reviewing/alerting/favoriting! Any/all feedback is always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow, did this chapter ever give me fits. Sorry I am posting it so late!

* * *

Chapter 4

Gibbs enters Abby's lab in time to hear her declare in a sing-song voice, "Oooooh, somebody needs a hug."

He announces his presence gruffly with, "I need a lead," and moves to stand between the two geeks.

Abby turns toward him to respond. "Oh, really? 'Cuz I found our killer's blood. How's that for a case cracker? Guess where?"

Gibbs looks at her expectantly, immediately noticing the dark-circles under her eyes and the almost-too-cheerful attitude. Over coffee this morning he decided to keep track of any strange or worrisome behavior he notices, and Abby has just earned strike one. Although it is not unusual for Abby to forgo sleep for results, he is not going to ignore any signs of aberrant behavior, no matter how innocuous. So, strike one sticks for now.

Because he has not said anything, Abby adds, "No, really, like I want you to guess."

"On the knife," he provides, hoping to end the game before it begins.

Rapid-fire, Abby replies, "No, guess again."

"Abby…" Gibbs warns, trying to squash his growing exasperation.

She shrugs, appearing undeterred by his intonation, and turns toward her computer. "I found trace amounts inside the stab wounds of our latest victim."

"You got a name?"

"I ran the DNA through the database. Nothing in the system. But, guess what McGee found?" she asks, over-exuberantly.

"Abby, no more guessing." Gibbs orders, fully exasperated.

Abby walks away toward the back of the lab with a perturbed expression on her face, pouting at his dismissal. He calls that strike two. Although Abby sometimes pretends to act like a petulant child, she almost never truly pouts. Gibbs turns toward McGee.

"Nicholas Everett's credit cards," starts the junior agent, "Two months ago he purchased a hunting knife called the Assault and Slayer 150."

"The murder weapon," confirms Gibbs. Abby returns to his left side and pulls the weapon from its sheath.

Pointing to each part as she describes it, Abby explains, "The bevel, point, and serrated spine of the Assault and Slayer 150 matches the wound patterns of all five victims."

With a nod toward the computer screen, Gibbs asks, "How'd the killer's blood get inside his victim?"

Abby's face lights up and she speaks excitedly, acting more like herself. "I have been dying for you to ask me that." She swings the blade around so she is holding it like she wants to stab someone. "This knife lacks a prominent hilt. So if it gets slick, like say, I don't know, if you're stabbing someone, it's hard to grip." She demonstrates the stabbing motion and Gibbs leans back slightly.

McGee chimes in, "The killer's hand must have slipped down the handle."

Gibbs continues the thought. "Cut himself with his own knife."

And McGee finishes with, "As he continued stabbing, bled in the victim's wounds"

"Our killer is gonna have a slice on the heel or the palm of his hand," Abby demonstrates as she speaks.

"That's good work," declares Gibbs, moving in to give Abby an appreciative hug, but she puts her hands up and moves away slightly.

"Could you give McGee my hug today, because he really needs one?" All kinds of alarm bells go off in Gibbs' mind. Has she ever rejected a hug from him before? Or deflected it to someone else?

He nearly does a double take at her, still in disbelief, before turning to look at McGee wearing what he hopes is a sufficiently displeased expression. The younger man almost immediately assures him, looking slightly horrified, "I'm good Boss, thanks."

Gibbs hastily retreats from the lab, not to escape the awkwardness of nearly having to hug McGee, but because Abby has absolutely earned her third strike. Avoiding a hug…that is unprecedented in their friendship.

Tony meets him in the doorway to Abby's lab and they step into the elevator together. He half-listens to Tony's information before ordering him to pick up the suspect, hopeful that this will wrap up this case. Because he desperately needs to talk to Abby about her erratic behavior, and soon. Something is off, something has changed their dynamic from completely natural to disturbingly unnatural. And he is going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

It is early afternoon when she calls Ziva to relay to her the results on Everett's knife. She barely hears Ziva respond with 'Thank you, Abby' before she hangs up and dials Gibbs.

"Yeah, Abbs?" he answers, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Gibbs? Where are you?" Her curiosity momentarily distracts her from her primary focus.

"Heading toward the squadroom. What'cha got?"

He sounds impatient and irritated, so she quickly responds, "I just wanted to let you know that I got permission from the director to leave a little early today. If anything comes up for the case I will return immediately. And I promise to be reachable."

There is silence on the other end of the phone for so long that she wonders if he has hung up. "Gibbs?"

She can sense the concern in his voice. "Everything alright, Abbs?"

"Of course. See you in the morning, bossman,"

Gibbs sounds more than a little preoccupied when he ends the conversation with, "Yeah."

Abby experiences a momentary surge of doubt as she looks at her phone. She knows that Gibbs knows something is up. But her misgivings are quelled when she thinks of Holly's instructions. Time to get to work…

* * *

An hour later, Abby is standing in the middle of the formalwear section of a boutique called _Chaque Soir_ in downtown D.C. Holly insisted that she would be able to find the proper attire here, and that most of her girls refused to shop anywhere else. But all Abby can see is a sea of outrageously jewel-toned, satiny, bedazzled gowns. Way too gaudy for her. This outfit needs to ooze sex appeal, but the rampant ruffles and excessive sprinkling of sequins brings to mind a high school prom dress. Definitely not the image she wants to portray.

She steps toward a particularly offensive dress and pokes at the sleeves, grimacing when she hears the clacking of heels from behind. A saleswoman dressed in a sleek, deep purple blouse and black slacks steps up beside her, asking kindly, "Can I help you, miss?"

Abby twists her hands as she responds as she was instructed that morning, "Um, Holly Snow told me to come here for an order."

With an enigmatic smile, the saleswoman responds, "Of course. My name is Regina." She gestures toward the back of the store, "Please, right this way, miss. We'll get you ready in no time."

She follows Regina through doors marked 'Employees Only', which lead into a long hallway. Abby glances into the other rooms off of the hallway as they pass by, observing that they are mostly dressing rooms with full-length mirrors. The only exceptions are an office with an outdated computer, a room with an excess of hangers and hanging racks, and a closed door at the end of the hall.

Regina stops in front of the closed door and pulls on a chain around her neck, bringing forth the attached key. As she unlocks the door, the saleswoman declares, "We have one of the best selections on the east coast, and I am fairly certain that you will have no problem finding what you need. Miss Snow called me earlier today with suggestions. She has a very good eye for things like this." With that statement, Regina pulls open the door and steps aside so Abby can enter.

And when all Abby can do is gape at the contents of the room, she suddenly understands why Holly sent her here. "Yowza," is all she can think to say.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for the influx of reviews for the last chapter! And thank you to anyone who read/favorited/alerted this story. Now, onto writing Chapter 5…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sitting at his dining room table, Gibbs takes another bite of steak and tries not to think about how bizarre this evening has been. It is not often that he has dinner with someone he has rescued from a serial killer only hours before. And it is even rarer for the dinner to be in payment for getting his rescuee involved in the case in the first place.

"Ok, this has got to be the best steak I've ever had," compliments Holly. "Please tell me, what's your secret?"

Gibbs finishes chewing and looks down at his plate. He mumbles about using the right touch and the final ingredient; beer.

Holly laughs and tells him it's a waste of beer before saying, "Well, thank you for a wonderful evening. And for delivering on my little, um, 'deal-breaker'."

"Really, it's that special?" he asks, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

Holly smiles genuinely. "Uh huh. All I wanted was dinner without expectations." She pauses, and then adds, "With a friend."

Gibbs gestures between the two of them and raises his eyebrows. "We're friends?"

Just as she's about to answer, her phone rings. "Excuse me."

He listens as she arranges what sounds like another 'business meeting'. "Tonight? What time? Alright, I'll see what I can do."

Holly ends the call and reaches for her handbag. She looks up at Gibbs, and as if realizing what the conversation sounded like, apologizes, "Oh, I can explain."

"Nope, you don't have to," he assures.

Holly persists, though. "No, I know what you must be thinking."

"Oh, I…I, uh doubt that," Gibbs tells her. The woman truly has no clue about him. Why do so many people always believe that they understand him after spending a few hours in his company? It's like they believe they have some special insight into how he operates. Frankly, he finds it annoying.

"I gotta go," Holly asserts as she gets up to leave.

She stops at his side and inquires, "Friends?"

Gibbs simply continues chewing, waiting for her to just leave so he does not have to continue this absurd conversation. But she persists, admitting, "I don't have many."

"Me either," Gibbs says, neither accepting nor denying her offer of friendship.

Holly must realize that this is the best she will get from him, because she gently kisses his temple and squeezes his shoulder. He listens for the front door to open and shut, and then cuts himself another bite of steak. This probably will not be the last time one of his investigations involves Holly Snow, she is too well connected with many of D.C.'s major players, but he hopes that it is a while before he is forced to utilize her particular skillset again.

Taking another swig of beer, Gibbs' thoughts turn toward another woman he encountered this evening, Charlotte Cook. After seeing the state of her face, he knows that the talk with Abby about her interest in call girls needs to happen even sooner. The mere thought of Abby putting herself into a situation that could lead to her being similarly hurt makes his blood boil.

But before he starts lecturing Abby on being careful, he reasons it might be wise to follow Rule 3: double-check. He pulls his cell from his pocket and calls Tony. Abby treats him like a brother, and often confides in him. Plus, Tony's decently-developed gut might have picked up on something that will validate his own recent concerns.

His senior field agent answers the phone with a rushed greeting. "Uh, hi, Boss."

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah?"

Gibbs gets straight to his point. "You talk to Abby lately?"

Tony pauses, like he is thinking back over the last few days. "No, not really. I talked to her last night in the squadroom, but it was about movies and stuff. Nothing personal, at least."

Tony must realize that this call is not about a pressing threat, because he asks, "And what has our 'Mistress of the Dark' done lately to cause you to worry?"

Instead of answering his question, Gibbs asks one of his own, "She seem alright to you?"

Tony chuckles. "She certainly hasn't done anything un-Abby lately, although her usual behavior covers such a variety of flavors that it usually has to be a fairly obvious change to be a blip on my Goth-Gone-Wild radar. You want me to keep an eye on her?"

"Yeah," agrees Gibbs, satisfied to have another set of eyes watching out for his favorite scientist.

"Ok, Boss. Anything else you need?"

"No." Gibbs closes his phone and sets it onto the table, next to his fork.

He momentarily wonders again if he is making something out of nothing or if he is picking up on something more than her usual mercuriality. But the oddity of the deferred hug will not leave him be, so he picks up his phone again to talk to the root of the problem.

* * *

Just a few miles away, Abby frowns at her phone's caller-ID.

"Sorry, Gibbs, but this is a bad time," she explains to her phone, as if he can hear her. "I have somewhere to be very soon and stopping to talk to you might delay me."

Turning off the sound, Abby slips the phone into her pocket and picks up the garment bag draped over her sofa. With a nervous huff, she exits her apartment and takes the stairs down to the parking garage attached to her building.

Twenty minutes later she is standing in the entryway of Holly Snow's lavishly furnished condo, worrying about whether or not to remove her boots before stepping on the carpet. As if sensing her dilemma, Holly waves her forward, inviting, "Come on in; don't worry about your shoes. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks. May I ask you a question, Miss Snow?" requests Abby, following her into the living room and stopping beside Holly in front of the mahogany bar that takes up an entire side of the room.

"Yes, you may. And please, call me Holly," insists the brunette, pulling out a glass and pouring a dark liquor into it. "Sure you don't want a drink?"

Abby shakes her head. "Um, not that I'm not _really_ grateful that you are helping me, but I'm sort of confused over why you won't allow me to, er, compensate you for your time," she explains, nervously pressing the tips of her fingers together in front of her torso, the garment bag hanging from her left elbow.

Holly looks up with a smile, amused by Abby's word choice. "Well, to be honest, I have a couple of reasons." She sips her drink. "I appreciate that you approach my profession with an open mind and are willing to learn about it without judging. Plus, this gives me an opportunity to repay a debt."

Before Abby can ask what she means by that last statement, Holly sets down her drink and clasps her hands together.

"Now, you're not going to be able to pull off acting like a call girl." When Abby opens her mouth to argue, Holly puts up a hand. "Don't take that personally. Some girls can, but others do better when they just act like themselves." With a smile, Holly adds, "And believe me, you will be more alluring acting like yourself than trying to act like someone you're not."

Abby smiles sheepishly, flattered that Holly would think that about her.

"And for this sort of thing you really need to be comfortable your first time. Wear your favorite jewelry and stick to the kind of make-up you would put on for a night out, nothing overdone but definitely more than what you've got on right now. This client is not interested in role play, but he does like it rough, so be prepared for that."

Holly picks up her drink and points toward another door.

"Now, use my bedroom to change into your outfit so we can talk about how you'll make your entrance. That is often the pivotal moment, and I think in this case, it will be even more important than usual."

* * *

A/N: You guys are AMAZING! Especially Ziver69 who reviewed every chapter….you are all making me so psyched up about writing this story. And yes, the M starts next chapter!

Thank you so much to anyone who has taken the time to read/review/alert/favorite this story. You are all my favorites…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Happy Friday! An extra-long chapter to celebrate!

You are fore-warned: M-level language and smexyness below…

* * *

Chapter 6

Gibbs does not bother leaving a message on Abby's phone. Talking to her in the morning will be just as effective as tonight. She is probably at a club enjoying that ludicrously discordant noise she considers music at migraine-inducing levels. Even though she is breaking the other Rule 3, he lets it slide; he has always been lenient with her on that one.

He cleans up the dinner dishes and dumps the empty beer bottles into his recycling bin. His evening stretches into the early morning hours while he tinkers in the basement.

A few hours later he stops by Abby's lab with a Caf-Pow! in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The analytical instruments are already humming and her music's bass is causing noticeable vibrations in the glass of the refrigerator. The person responsible for the cacophony dances into view and his attention immediately goes to the pair of black satin heels on her feet. They are definitely not her usual footwear, but he has to admit that they look rather sophisticated on her.

It takes Abby nearly spinning into him for her to realize he is standing there. With a yelp that is inaudible because of the music, she steps back too quickly and starts to lose her balance, clearly not accustomed to the new shoes. Making a split-second decision, he drops the coffee and his hand shoots out to grab her forearm. She stabilizes herself using his arm as an anchor and her other hand latches onto his shoulder as he pulls her close.

The scent of black coffee suddenly permeates the air and Abby looks down at the expanding puddle in horror, then back up at him. "I am _so_ sorry, Gibbs." She must realize that he can barely hear her over the music, because she reaches into her lab coat pocket for the remote and silence settles over the room.

His ears pound, both from the sudden absence of noise and his adrenaline slowly returning to normal levels. "Are you alright?" he asks, gruffly.

"Uh, huh," Abby responds as she quickly steps away out of his arms and carefully navigates around the lake of coffee. "Didn't even twist an ankle, thanks to you." She reaches down under the steel-topped table and pulls out a spill clean-up bucket. He watches as she opens it and starts to sprinkle absorbent powder over the spill.

"What's with the shoes?"

She drops a handful of the powder back into the bucket and looks down at her feet. "Oh, new court shoes. Actually, I probably should take these off." With the assistance of a finger, she removes the heels and tosses them onto her desk. "Guess I, um, need more practice walking in them, huh?"

Gibbs glances at the heels, thinking that they look like the least court-appropriate shoes he has ever seen. A wet sensation on his leg distracts him, and he looks down at his feet, noticing that his right pant leg is soaked. Abby sees it at almost the same time and begins to agonize over it. "Oh, no, Gibbs, I've ruined your clothes! I am so sorry, I really didn't mean–"

"Abby," he cuts her off, "It's fine. I have a spare pair."

"And your coffee–"

He waves her off. "I'll get another; here." He hands her the Caf-Pow! and steps away from the coffee-soaked-powder mess.

One of her instruments beeps, but she is too busy looking at the Caf-Pow! with misery to notice. "I don't deserve this, Gibbs. I'm not working on anything for you right now and I've made you spill your coffee and now your clothes are wet and –" her words get more and more rapid and her voice increases in pitch with every sentence and he knows he needs to calm her down before she starts hyperventilating.

"Abby." She looks up at him and he tries to reassure her. "It's ok."

She woefully hums her understanding, then skirts the edge of the mess to retrieve a dustpan and broom from behind her desk. He takes them from her and motions for her to check on the results. Abby reluctantly walks over to the instrument while he sweeps the coffee-powder into the garbage.

As he finishes sweeping the last pile of powder, she harrumphs and mutters something about contamination. Gibbs returns the cleaning supplies to their original homes and stands next to her in front of the computer screen. "What'cha doing?"

"Well, I've got a ballistics report to finish for the Thompson case, some blood splatter analysis for Agent Nielson, and of course Major Mass Spec has decided that he wants to clog his injection port, so now I need to deal with a contamination issue before I can identify the mysterious blue goo found all over a dead Marine's hands so that Ducky can figure out the best way to remove it."

"That all?" he teases.

She grins, "Yeah. Wanna help?"

"You've got it covered."

Abby looks at him out of the corner of her eye slyly. "Oh, really? Sure you don't want to lend a hand?"

"Already did that this morning."

The smile vanishes from her face. "I really am sorry, Gibbs."

"Stop apologizing," he orders, "It's a sign–"

"Of weakness, I know, I know," interrupts Abby.

He seizes the window of opportunity she has just offered. "You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

With a pointed look, Abby huffs, "I talk to you all the time, Gibbs. So much so that you usually tell me to stop."

A series of positive-sounding noises begin issuing from the computer and she turns back toward the machine. "Wow, who knew that KY came in _that _color?"

Hoping she is referring to the unknown 'goo' on the dead Marine's hands, Gibbs reaches for the Caf-Pow! on the table behind him and plunks it down in front of Abby's keyboard.

"Thanks, Gibbs! I'm really gonna need this today if I'm gonna finish everything in time to make it to my Friday night plans."

"Oh?"

She glances over toward him and grins conspiratorially. "Yep, big plans tonight."

His gut tightens and he cautions her, "Be safe."

Her eyes sparkle. "Of course. I always am."

He retreats to the elevator, not entirely convinced that he shouldn't have been more confrontational. Perhaps he will try again later in the day, when his pants are not soaked with coffee and she is not distracted by an overwhelming workload.

* * *

After getting another coffee and changing into his spare set of pants, Gibbs spends the entire morning doing paperwork and keeping his team from acting up. The director calls him up to MTAC in the middle of lunch, and he passes the rest of the afternoon there. He calls it quits on paperwork around 7 and checks to see if Abby is still working so he can encourage her to finish up and walk her out. But an empty, silent lab awaits him, and he reasons that she probably has already moved on to the plans she mentioned earlier.

Deciding that he does not feel like cooking, Gibbs picks up takeout on his way home and dumps it onto the dining room table. He is picking through his utensil drawer when the sound of the front door opening draws his attention. It's Abby, and the nervous energy vibrating around her instantly puts him on alert. Even stranger is that she does not offer any sort of greeting as she shuts the door.

"Abbs?" he prompts her, and she steps closer, still not speaking. He flips on the kitchen light to get a better look at her, his worry growing.

The first thing he notices is that she has on a lab coat like the one she wears at work, except this one is completely black. Her hair is pulled back, her usual pigtails absent. She shifts uncertainly on her feet and he realizes that she has on the heels from this morning. Gibbs looks back up at her face to catch her expression, but gets distracted by her makeup. It's very dark, tempting even, with thick mascara and so much black around her eyes that their color and shape pop like nothing he's seen before. Her deep red lips part and then close again as she swallows resolutely.

Abby steps forward and he is still too taken in by her makeup to react when she grasps his left hand with her right one.

"Come with me," she requests, her voice huskier than usual, and he complies without hesitating.

She directs him over to his couch and lightly touches his shoulders, encouraging him to sit. He settles down on the middle cushion and watches warily as Abby begins unbuttoning the lab jacket.

"Abby, what's goin–"

He abruptly stops speaking when she shrugs off the coat and allows the sleeves to slide down her fingerless glove-encased arms. She's wearing a corset, a black leather corset, with rivets running up and down the seams and a series of metal buckles keeping the entire thing together in front. A pair of painted-on black leather pants with zippers near her knees and hips don't entirely reach up to where the corset ends, leaving a thin strip of flesh uncovered above her hips. A thick, black choker with rivets matching those adorning the corset encircles her neck.

He has never seen her dressed this way, and it is not that she hasn't looked attractive before (her Marilyn Monroe Halloween costume comes to mind), but this is entirely different. This is sexy, smolderingly sexy. There is not a playful hint in Abby's eyes, all juvenile flirting is absent. And with the exception of the initial nerves in the kitchen, Abby wears this look like it is ingrained in her skin. Like she was always meant to be this dark vixen, like everything prior was a dress rehearsal and now she is completely in character.

She starts speaking, very directly, her voice low and controlled. "Gibbs, I want you. I've wanted you for years." She puts her gloved hands on her hips and a sexy, knowing smirk settles on her face. "And I know you want me, too."

Before he can finish processing what she has said, Abby is straddling him, her ass settling onto the tops of his thighs. She leans forward to whisper in his ear, her corseted breasts pressing against his chest as she inhales and he swears that all the blood in his body drains into his lap.

"I want you to fuck me. You choose how, but I want your cock in me now."

He inhales deeply and beneath the overwhelming smell of new leather lingers the distinct scent that is uniquely Abby. His brain suddenly reengages as that smell reminds him of just who is on his lap, beneath all the makeup, bravado, and leather. Gibbs grabs her forearms and pushes her away from his chest less gently than he intends.

She rocks back onto his thighs, looking less alarmed than he expects. In fact, she looks excited, and with a throaty purr assures him, "Don't worry, I know you like it rough, and I so dig that."

Gibbs guides her completely off of him until they are both standing in front of the couch. Abby continues smiling, still not grasping his growing anger.

"Did Holly Snow tell you to do this? Is this why you've been so fascinated by her?" he demands.

"Yeah, I called her yesterday and we met last night," she admits. "Gibbs, I've wanted you for years, but never known how to approach you. And I figured if anyone knew how to approach a man, Holly Snow would."

His mind starts to connect events he'd previously discounted as unrelated; Holly's phone call the previous evening, why Abby was unreachable last night, the strange way she's been acting lately.

She laughs nervously, when he is silent. "Say something, Gibbs."

"There's nothing to say," he responds quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You've never thought about me this way?" Abby is still half-smiling, as if this is just a momentary misunderstanding.

"No," he responds, flatly. "We're friends."

The smile falls away. "But…"

He shakes his head and insists, "Abby, I don't feel that way 'bout you, never have."

Genuine astonishment is settling onto her face as she stutters, "But…but, Gibbs –"

He interrupts. "No buts, it just is, Abbs."

"You don't feel…anything?" her voice wavers on the last word.

"You're my friend and I care for you as a friend," Gibbs maintains firmly, "That's it."

She looks crestfallen, on the cusp of tears. Her eyes dart around the room and she starts taking short, fast breaths.

"Well, well, I guess…then I guess I've just made a fool of myself, huh." Her shock is quickly being replaced by humiliation; it's written all across her beautiful face and laced in her voice. "Don't worry, Gibbs, you'll never have to deal with me acting like this again."

She closes her eyes, as if looking at him is too difficult. "I'm sorry to have ruined your evening." She picks up the lab coat from the floor behind her and adds, bitterly, "Goodnight."

The thumping of his front door closing is not the last thing he hears; rather, it is a gut-wrenching sob of pain and disappointment from the opposite side.

* * *

A/N: You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?

Thank you so very much to all who have reviewed/read/alerted/favorited this story. Sophies-Welt made a good point about a line of Gibbs' dialogue in last chapter, so I have changed it appropriately. I always appreciate any help from you guys to keep everyone in character.

And for those of you wondering, when Holly Snow meets Gibbs in the interrogation room during 7x13 'Jet Lag' she mentions that she is good at reading people, and that she thinks Gibbs probably likes it rough, but isn't into role play…that's where I got it from.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Just a reminder - not mine. But any grammatical errors are, unfortunately.

* * *

Chapter 7

His team gets called in on Sunday to stakeout a suspected local terrorist cell with ties to an overseas group. It takes them the rest of the week to track down the cell's leader and another four days to determine how the network is managing to smuggle explosive ordinance out of D.C. He sends any forensic evidence to Abby via his agents, and she emails results or calls one of his team, never him. When DiNozzo comments on Abby's new behavior, Ziva agrees that something seems different and McGee looks worried. He tells them all to get back to work, certain that Abby just needs some time to reconcile her hurt feelings.

This pattern persists when they get another case, and Gibbs decides to break the ice with a Caf-Pow! delivery. Abby politely thanks him for the beverage, gives him the relevant results without any extra verbiage or tangents, and then dismisses him by simply walking away. He understands that she is still stinging from his rejection, but her professionalism tells him that she is not holding a grudge. Abby is not mean-spirited by nature, and it would not surprise him if she blames herself for the whole unfortunate encounter.

Their friendship seems to remain intact, although she stops hugging him or calling him anything other than Gibbs. He, in turn, no longer rewards her work with cheek-kisses or any other form of physical contact. They do not sign to each other, she stops imitating him and he stops checking on her at the end of the day to walk her to her car. Gibbs is pleased that they can both be adult about the issue and relieved that she understands that this was nothing more than a passing crush. He does feel slightly guilty over the idea that his previous behavior may have encouraged her. But the new shift in their friendship fixes that issue, so he thinks.

When Allison M. Hart shows up during their next case he is so busy keeping the lawyer at bay he does not see Abby for over a week. He has to break up several whispered conversations between his agents before he learns that they are discussing a new development in his forensic scientist's behavior. As soon as he no longer needs to cater to Ms. Hart he takes the elevator down to the lab.

It is immediately obvious that Abby has not had a decent night of sleep in a week, maybe longer. The tower of empty Caf-Pow! cups stacked in ballistics tells him that her insomnia is artificially maintained. But from his own continuing adventures with bourbon he knows that there is always a deeper reason for self-induced insomnia. The rumpled blanket on her cot and an overnight bag stashed under her desk confirms his other suspicion; Abby has been spending more than just her work hours in her lab.

When he tries to speak to her about it, she politely shrugs him off, saying that she's had an abundance of extra work. Gibbs checks with Leon, and the Director insists that Abby has been given her usual overwhelming load, but nothing more. A visit to Ducky reveals that she has been spending a great deal of time with him, observing autopsies. Palmer nervously admits that she has published several new forensic journal articles, but does not send him copies to proof like she once did. And McGee confesses that he has been providing her with tech support while she runs through cold cases. Abby is burying herself with work, and Gibbs begins to wonder if she is purposely doing it to avoid something. Or someone.

As the summer drags on, Abby continues to retreat into herself. His team makes it their personal mission to determine why their favorite Goth has become a hollow caricature of herself. But she stone-walls them, and suspicion begins to mount from DiNozzo and Ziva that he is somehow involved. DiNozzo asks him tactful questions about Abby with a raised eyebrow, and he catches Ziva using her squinty-eyed calculating look on him more than once. McGee seems to have convinced himself that he is partially responsible and immaturely mopes. His team is starting to become less efficient because of the distraction and he is getting frustrated with the entire situation.

* * *

He fails to keep his temper in check one day in late August when his team loses a suspect because they are too busy arguing with each other. In front of the entire squadroom he tells them off, then stalks away, furious with them and himself.

Predictably, it is Ducky who pulls him aside following his outburst. He literally corners Gibbs in autopsy after sending Palmer to retrieve a lengthy list of supplies. Wearing a disapproving countenance, Ducky stands quietly in front of him, his hands in his lab coat but his body language shouting out challenge.

His passive-aggressive approach has Gibbs on the defensive. "Something on your mind, Ducky?

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" asks the ME, undeterred by the frustration in his friend's voice.

Gibbs responds with, "About?"

"Anything?" Ducky is purposely vague, clearly trying to provoke him into divulging whatever information he is fishing for.

"Nope. We good, Doctor Mallard?" he asks, disingenuously, as he pushes past.

Gibbs is almost to the bay doors when Ducky calls out, "What have you done to upset dear Abigail so?"

He stops but does not turn around, answering over his shoulder instead. "What gave you that idea?"

The ME approaches him, his voice gaining confidence the closer he gets to Gibbs. "Well, in speaking separately to Tony, Ziva, and Timothy, and then all of them together, a great deal of evidence has led me to this conclusion. Not to mention, of course, my own observations."

Gibbs turns to face Ducky, his hands clenching into fists.

Ducky continues, undaunted by his friend's obvious stubbornness. "You see, they each have spent a great deal of time observing and interacting with Abigail in an attempt to determine the root of her recent behavioral changes. And all three of them have reached the undeniable conclusion that the only person who could potentially affect her so dramatically is you."

Gritting his teeth together, Gibbs responds slowly, "I don't know why she's acting oddly. She certainly hasn't told me anything."

Ducky narrows his eyes. "Really, Jethro? Because I think you know a great deal more that you are admitting to. And I thought that we were not keeping secrets from one another anymore."

With an annoyed huff, Gibbs scrutinizes his friend. "Yeah, well…secrets between us have nothing to do with this."

"Do you or do you not know something about why Abigail has been so withdrawn from all of us as of late?" demands the ME, impatiently.

Gibbs' mind goes into overdrive, trying to decide whether or not to confide in his friend. He decides to go with a part of the truth. "Anything I may or may not have done was for her protection."

"Oh, you were protecting her, were you? So please, explain to me how this 'protection' has benefited her. What have you done, Jethro?" Ducky asks, firmly. "Not only is Abigail suffering, but you have become unbearable. The rumor mill is positively buzzing over your meltdown upstairs." The ME steps closer, speaking earnestly, "So I ask again, what have you done?"

He folds after a moment of consideration. "I told Abby the truth, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear."

"About what exactly?" Ducky's confusion rings clear in his voice.

When he cannot find the right words to explain the situation without embarrassing Abby, Gibbs admits, "Something personal. Something that, uh, that was a misunderstanding."

The ME's forehead creases in concentration. "Ah, I see. You know, I have observed that Abigail sometimes allows her emotions to cloud her judgment." He looks over his glasses, knowingly. "She's not the only one, mind you. And when two such people become intensely emotional, the potential for misunderstands is amplified."

Gibbs runs a hand along his jawline and raises his eyebrows, waiting for Ducky to finish.

"Well, I can say one thing for certain. Our Abigail will not risk the sting of such painful rejection again. If anyone is to resolve this situation, it will have to be you," Ducky concludes, decisively.

"Yeah, I know." He's known he would have to do something to fix this sooner or later, but has not even considered how.

Ducky gestures to the door. "Then what are you waiting for?"

* * *

Gibbs does not go up to Abby's lab. To fix this problem he first needs more information about what caused it to occur in the first place. He retrieves the business card he needs from his desk, mindful of the wide berth everyone, including his own team, gives him. Barking orders, he sends his agents off to find the suspect they lost, telling them to call him once they have her in custody.

He does not make the call until he is ensconced in his basement, away from unwelcome ears and eyes.

"Hello?"

"This Holly Snow?"

"Yes, and who is this?"

"What in the hell did you do to Abby?"

There is a long silence on the other end, and then Holly uncertainly answers, "Gibbs?"

"Yeah, now answer the question."

There is an edge of concern to Holly's voice. "Is she alright?"

"For now, no thanks to you. Now, what did you tell her?"

"I haven't spoken with her in months. The last time was the night you and I had dinner together. I never heard from her after that, which seemed a little strange given that–"

He interrupts, "Given what?"

Cool as a cucumber, Holly responds, "Given that I had hoped she would spill on her evening with her mystery man."

Gibbs' hand tightens on his phone. "And what part exactly did you play in that?"

"Abby called me the day before asking for a favor. She wanted me to show her how to attract a very particular sort of man, because her past boyfriends were unlike who she had in mind. I asked her to describe this man and I got a rather interesting set of characteristics. Care to know who her description matched?"

Already having a good idea, Gibbs starts pacing. "No. What else did you talk about?"

Not fazed by his abrupt questioning, Holly continues. "Well, she also described the sort of woman her mystery man was interested in. Well dressed, mainly in suits and heels, with, um, a high-paying job, and very outspoken, not taking any sort of flak. She said that there was no difference in hair or eye color, but that this woman held herself completely differently, very confident and self-assured. Abby really wanted to learn how to act that way, so I taught her."

The description confuses him for a moment, until he realizes that those traits describe Allison M. Hart. Does Abby really think that he is attracted to the lawyer and that something is going on between them?

"She was the phone call that ended our dinner early, and we met at my place to practice. I helped her get rid of some of her nervous ticks, showed her how to walk in heels, and taught her how to feel confident when wearing a seductive outfit. We even discussed the best way to approach her mystery man." Holly chuckles. "Very directly was my suggestion."

"You ever set her up with one of your clients?"

"Absolutely not." Holly sounds cross with his insinuation. "She wanted to learn about attracting one particular man, not how to be one of my girls. Is she alright, Gibbs?"

"Yeah." He stops pacing and concentrates on what he's just learned. Holly did not push Abby to approach him; she'd already been interested. And if what Abby said that night was true, that she had wanted him for years, then it was not a crush that could be so easily dismissed. Abby was still suffering because she was in love with him. And probably would continue to suffer until he did something.

"Well, then how did it turn out for her mystery man? Like I said, I was surprised that she didn't–"

He hangs up on Holly and drops the phone onto his workbench. The only way to solve this now is to talk to Abby, probably the last person who wants to talk to him.

And why should she want to talk to him? He humiliated her, one of his closest friends, when she was at her most vulnerable, trying to express her feelings. And now that he knows how she feels and what she wants, the question becomes what does he want? Abby has been there always and the risk of losing that relationship seems too great. But he also recognizes that denying that he has any feelings for her is a lie. He respects her, loves her, but does he want her like that? Can intense friendship so easily turn into a workable physical relationship?

His libido certainly thinks so. Before she approached him he used to have errant thoughts that he would feel guilty about. But now he has graduated to imagining whole sequences with her in that corset. How can he not remember the way her body fit so snugly into all that leather? How can he not imagine what it would have been like to unbuckle the restrains on the corset, to hold her by her choker as he fucked her from behind? What would she have sounded like? How would it have felt to tease her and lick her and fuck her in all the ways he can imagine? He wants to know…

Gibbs settles down on the stool beside his workbench. So, he has his answer. He wants her. Question is, does she still want him?

* * *

A/N: One more chapter to go! Thanks to all who have reviewed/read/alerted/favorited…


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Believe it or not, your advisor will give you the verbal equivalent of a Gibbs head slap when he finds out that you have been uncharacteristically absent from the lab because you are 'writing'. If I was currently working on a publication, then I might have been able to get away with it. But I am not, so I had to play with my own 'Major Mass Spec' (we call her Persephone) for a few days before I could sneak off again to write this last chapter. Thus, the delay…

* * *

Chapter 8

The knock on her apartment door makes Abby jump slightly. She puts down the analytical chemistry journal she wasn't actually reading and walks to the door. A giddy joy bubbles up from deep inside of her when she recognizes Gibbs through the peephole, but Abby tempers the feeling with a deep inhalation followed by a slow exhalation. Never mind that this is the first time that he has stopped by her apartment since _that_ night. The new parameters of their friendship don't include afterhours visits or non-work-related conversations. So why is he here?

Abby opens the door and rests her cheek on the jamb. "Gibbs?"

"We need to talk." He does not sound angry, but he does not sound particularly happy either. His attitude cannot have anything to do with their latest case because Tony successful broke the killer during interrogation earlier that afternoon. And her forensic work was solid, no questionable interpretations at any point, so his presence at her door can only mean one thing.

She supposes that she should have anticipated that this would happen eventually. No matter how hard she has tried to act 'normal', her heart just has not been in it. And since she has never been really good at hiding her feelings, of course he would have to call her out on being a disruption to his team. She does appreciate that he is doing it here, away from work, and on a Friday so that she can have the weekend to think things through. Too bad he does not know that the decision has already been made.

Opening the door wider and stepping aside, Abby invites him in wordlessly. Gibbs enters her apartment and does nothing to hide his evaluation of the disorganized state of her living room. He turns around to face her as she shuts the door.

Before he can say anything, she blurts out, "I've been meaning to talk to you."

He squints his eyes slightly but does not speak, which she knows is permission to continue.

Wringing her hands close to her chest, Abby forces the words out. "I tried, I really did. But I couldn't get over my feelings for you. So I tried to accept that I would always want you, and that you wouldn't."

"Abby–"

"No, Gibbs." She holds up both hands to keep him from interrupting further. "I need to say this before I lose my nerve, ok? In fact, you might want to sit down for this."

When he does make any movement toward the couch she reasons, "Well, I suppose you don't have to sit. But don't say I didn't warn you." Abby looks away from him and down at the floor, afraid of his reaction to her news. "I talked to Director Vance yesterday. I, I can't stay here anymore. I can see how I'm affecting your team and I can't live with the knowledge that I might be preventing you guys from being effective at your jobs."

She starts to nervously twist her fingers in the palms of her hands. "Plus, I can't keep this up. I can't keep pretending that everything's alright…'cuz it isn't. I didn't realize how important you were to me until I lost the best parts of our friendship. I'm so sorry for that. So sorry for ruining our friendship. It was a good thing, a really good thing. And I screwed it all up because I couldn't just be happy with what I had." And with that admission, Abby squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from escaping from the corners.

The smell of sawdust suddenly overwhelms her as Gibbs pulls her into their first hug in months. It feels so right, so much like being loved, that she does not fight it.

His voice is rough. "Oh, Abbs, Abbs…"

Every instinct, except the one for self-preservation, screams out at her in anguish when she pushes away from him. Abby keeps her head down, still unable to look at Gibbs. "Stop, please," she pleads. "You can't hug me like that; I can't keep my feelings straight."

He places his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezes. "Abby, I don't want you to hide those feelings."

"But you–"

"And I don't want you leaving NCIS."

"I have to–"

"And you didn't 'screw it all up'. I did."

Wait, what? Her mind skips like a laser on the surface of a scratched CD as her head snaps up to look at him. His last words repeat enough times for them to register and all she can think to say ineloquently is, "What?"

He almost looks nervous and that only adds to her bewilderment. "I did, Abby. I'm the one who ruined our friendship. You…you tried to give me something beautiful and I didn't recognize it." He pulls her into another hug and she is too confused to do anything but settle back into his tender embrace. "I thought you were acting on Holly Snow's advice, that you did what you did because you had a crush. And I was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

With his right hand on the back of her head, he tucks her face into his shoulder, and speaks softly into her ear. "Whatever Allison Hart and Colonel Bell are planning."

The first name has her trying to push away again, but Gibbs just holds her tighter. "Whatever you think is going on between her and I is just in your head," he assures her, "We're not involved."

"Why not? What are they planning?" she utters before she can think better of asking.

His arms loosen a bit. "Don't know. It's personal, though."

"You didn't answer my first question," Abby points out, still feeling rather bold.

The fingers of his right hand contract and he begins to gently stroke her hair. "She's not what I want."

Knowing she is pushing things, but needing the answer, she prompts, "What do you want?"

He exhales quietly into her ear. "You, Abbs. Just you."

She lets that glorious revelation sink in as he continues to hold her and run his fingertips along the top of her head. If they hugged for the rest of the night she would not ask for anything more.

But Gibbs clearly has other ideas for the evening because he starts with, "Now it's my turn to ask the questions. Why d'ya think you needed to talk to Holly?"

"I mean, it's tough enough to get your attention without being a silver-tongued lawyer or a tough-as-nails Army Colonel. And she _does_ know a lot about sex. So, I figured that she would be a good advisor."

"Was she?"

With a shrug, she admits, "I thought so. And she answered all my questions, no matter how invasive."

"Invasive?"

She giggles. "Um, well, I sort of took advantage of having an expert available. It was like when I went to that conference a couple years ago where Dr. Lowell Jules presented on aquatic forensics and I couldn't keep from asking every single question that popped into my head. Holly was really nice about it, though. She even let me try on a couple of things in her closet."

"Who picked that outfit you wore?"

That has her grinning. "Holly suggested the shop where I got it, but I picked it out myself. It took me forever to locate it in their inventory but as soon as I saw it I knew I wanted it. I thought it would be perfect." _For you. _

Did she imagine that he sighed? Before she can speak, his voice gets rough again. "Abby, about the last few months–"

"You don't have to say anything. It's really ok."

"No." He presses his cheek onto the top of her head and holds her tight against him again. "No, it's not."

"I'm not upset, honestly, and it doesn't matter anyways. You're here now and that's all that's important."

He tries to counter, "I made you miserable for months."

Her eyes start to get teary again. "You didn't do it on purpose. We just had a connection issue, like when a computer has trouble synching with a wireless router, but now everything is ok, right?"

"Yeah." His response is short, and lacks his usual certitude.

"You're here," she repeats, emphasizing the second word. "And you don't need to seek forgiveness, because there's nothing to forgive. I know who you are, and I love you for being that person. And in case you haven't noticed, my expectations for the people I love are fairly simple. Don't lie to me, which you didn't, and don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. Although, I suppose that you have violated that second one so often that I should amend it to 'don't cause Abby to go into a hypertensive crisis when she finds out that you've put yourself in unnecessary danger once again.'"

He snorts at her. "You finished, Abbs?"

Snuggling closer into his shoulder, she inhales deeply and sighs, "Yeah."

"Good." His fingers stray away from her hair and down to her neck, his fingertips ghosting over her skin. "'Cuz I've got one more question for you."

"Hmm?"

"Ya still got that outfit?"

She smiles, mischievously. "And if I do?"

He pulls his head away from atop hers, and she looks up into his intense blue eyes as he commands, "Put it on."

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In the end, she could have gotten away with just wearing the corset, because he throws her onto her bed and peels the leather pants off before she can even kiss him properly. She pulls his shirt over his head and Gibbs grabs her wrists, transferring them to one hand so he can trap her arms above her head. She impishly tries to buck him off, but he just tightens his grip and kisses her hard. His tongue thrusts into her mouth and she involuntarily undulates her hips.

Gibbs grinds his own hips into hers in response, and she nips playfully at his lower lip. His other hand grasps her neck, pushing her chin up so he can bite at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Abby can feel a flush building in her face as the calluses on his fingers trace down to the tops of her breasts.

His lips suck on her left earlobe, then his nose traces along her jaw until he reaches her other ear. Barely above a whisper he asks, "You think you know all about what I prefer?"

She shivers, not sure if she should answer. _Rough and in control_, her mind supplies.

"You think you know how this is going to play out?"

With a nervous giggle, Abby admits, "I've certainly thought about it."

The tip of his tongue licks up the shell of her ear and then slides back down. "Oh, yeah? Care to share?"

"I have way too many fantasies to choose from. Like a million. Well, maybe not that many, but a lot."

"Tell me your favorite," he instructs, shifting so he is looking straight into her eyes.

She drops her voice an octave and speaks slowly. "Um, well my favorite is where I wake up to you already inside of me…and you have me handcuffed to the headboard so I can't do anything but let you use me to get off."

He growls his approval and then releases her wrists. She helps him pull off his jeans and he yanks her thong off her hips and down her legs. His boxer shorts follow, and she starts to unbuckle the first clasp on the corset, but Gibbs stops her with a command.

"No, this stays on." His hands run along the lines of rivets. "I've wanted to fuck you in this since the first time I saw it on you. Had fantasies about it, even."

A significant amount of heat and wetness rush to her core and she squirms. Gibbs must realize the effect that his words have had because he offers a cocky grin, then leans down to kiss her again. His wood-roughened fingers trail up the inside of her thigh, and he pushes two fingers into her without warning. Abby throws back her head and exhales in a breathy groan as he applies his thumb to her clit.

She is so keyed up from Gibbs touching her in the way she has fantasized, that he quickly has her at the cusp of orgasm. He doesn't allow her to finish, though, instead flipping her over onto her hands and knees. Warm palms settle onto her hips, his thumbs stroke along the bottom of her cross tattoo.

There is no hesitation in his first thrust into her, like he is taking something that has always belonged to him. Abby's eyes flutter shut and she lets her chin drop to her chest. He grabs onto the bottom of her corset and uses it to pull her onto his cock, over and over. The flush from earlier has grown into an all-body heat wave, and the sound of leather contracting under Gibbs' hands has her panting.

Gibbs pulls out of her and growls, "On your back." She is barely settled how he wants her before he is fucking her aggressively, and Abby grabs the backs of his upper arms to keep stable. The dueling sensations of his cock sliding into her and his tongue in her mouth give her nerves too many pleasurable impulses to handle. Her orgasm begins as an intense point deep in her core that explodes out to radiate throughout her body, all her muscles seizing simultaneously, including the one enveloping Gibbs' cock.

She cries out in elation, her mind a scrambled, happy mess as he continues thrusting into her. Her release prompts his; he bites her shoulder with a groan and snaps his hips forward in one final, forceful movement. With a prolonged kiss, he rolls over onto his back and pulls her onto his chest.

Basking in the glow of post-orgasmic satiety, Abby cannot help but vocalize her immediate thoughts.

"I think you should know that I'm sort of an all or nothing girl."

She can hear the grin in his voice. "Sounds 'bout right."

"So, what I'm saying is that I want this to be more than just tonight, ok?"

He tucks her head under his chin. "Ok."

"We really are good for each other, you know."

His thumb runs along her cheek and she smiles at the sign for 'my girl'. _Am I ever._

"I mean, who better to be with than someone who knows everything about you but still loves you and trusts you and respects you?"

"Ya got a good point there."

Her fingers trace one of the scars on his arm. "So obviously, I'm not leaving NCIS. I'll withdraw the paperwork on Monday."

With a gentle kiss to the top of her head, Gibbs simply murmurs, "Good."

After a long moment of comfortable quiet, she pipes up again, "Gibbs?"

His voice is sleepy. "Yeah, Abbs?"

"Please don't think you have to face whatever's to come alone. You've got me and Tony and Ziva and McGee and Ducky, and we would all do anything for you. We love you."

He inhales deeply and drops another kiss on the top of her head. Abby smiles and lets her eyes close in contentment. The sound of Gibbs' breathing and the warmth from his body mingle with the memories of the last hour, making the last few months seem like a bad dream. Her favorite fantasy is the last thing she imagines before drifting off, and it is the first thing to greet her when she wakes up.

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A/N: Wowie zowie, this is the first fic I've ever actually finished! I really could not have done it without all of your messages and reviews encouraging me, and I am thankful to each of you who took the time to write to me. I am also grateful to anyone who alerted or favorited or read.

'Til next time…


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